


Alone

by moonsqueen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Canonical Character Death, Dark fic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introspective Sam Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, hbo supernatural - Freeform, s1 probably during the first three episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsqueen/pseuds/moonsqueen
Summary: Sam lies awake after a nightmare and comes to some conclusions about himself and why he does what he does
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> It's 1am, I'm going through it with the hbo aesthetic, it's just a dark, kinda, fic not even that well written but still,,,,
> 
> I apologise for any mistake !!!! Enjoy 💕

Violent and angry waves trying to take him, are they alive? He can't see anything, the fog is thick. Something under the surface is moving, a long and dark silhouette floating right next to the raft. long hair and a white dress. He knows what that is. Who she is.

The clothes stick to his skin, the salty water makes his eyes burn. He needs something to hold on, what is he going to do? he needs to save himself before he drowns unless...

Sam, abruptly wakes up, it takes him a second to bring into focus the room. 

The only sounds he hears are his heavy breathing and the way Dean's bed creaks under his movements.

Sam clutches at the cross-necklace that's lays heavy on his chest. He clutches at it hard until it bites into his palm. He can feel the blood start dripping from his hand right on the bed.

He needs to throw up.

He's not fast enough, the floor will do for now.

Dean shifts again on the other bed, he doesn't wake up but Sam can see the way his hand grips at the gun under his pillow instinctively. That simple unconscious action brings the younger brother comfort, flashbacks of his childhood comes rushing into his head. Nights spent in cheap motels rooms, alone, trying to protect themselves from the creatures that lurk in the dark. 

Hoping for their dad to stay with them, praying, begging God, with a Bible in their hands for dad to not leave them.

But every time, John would leave, for days. 

Dad would come back, angrier, more broken, a shell of a man. Maybe God heard them. 

in that moment, the moment he would step into the room, oh- they then wished he never did. He shakes those thoughts away.

The hair is sticking uncomfortable to his forehead as the rest of his clothes, he throws them away somewhere on the floor, tomorrow he'll deal with it. 

He lies on his back once again closing his eyes, he doesn't sleep, it's too late for it anyway.

The room smells of sweat and something acid, it makes him gag. He doesn't usually notices the disturbing smell that always seems to linger on them, but tonight the moldy air of this motel, it's somehow amplified.

Sam is used to wake up in the middle of the night, nightmares fill the darkest hours of his life. It isn't a new thing, he always had them, since he was a little kid. He doesn't remember a time where he had a peaceful night, it's his normality.

Of course it got worse when next to the nightmares, the visions found their home in his head. He didn't tell anyone, not even Dean. That's nobody business but his. 

He doesn't need his own family hunting him down, at least not more than he would do, Sam would definitely hunt himself down if he saw what he was able to do.

Or maybe he wouldn't. 

A psych, a monster....maybe he's some kind of creature. That's fascinating, that's pure madness and he likes it. It's disturbing yet comforting. It's soothing, it brings him peace. 

It's 3am, the moon and streetlights weakly illuminate the faded white walls, newspaper pages and messily written notes sticks precariously on every surface.

It's been three days since he left college and Jess died, it feels like years. 

He didn't like college, funny right? He was the one who left, who left his father and brother to persue an education. He lets out a dark chuckle.

The smart one of the family, the youngest, the one with a real future, but in reality? 

Was he really anything more than a cursed and weird kid who grew up alone, surrounded by despair, trauma and abuse?

College was not his real life, maybe once, when he was a stupid and naive 12-year-old, trying to do his best in school to please his father. Law school, was his dream, but now?

Hunting. That is what he's supposed to do. Killing all those monsters (and not only) is what brings him joy, does he feel guilty? Maybe. 

Saving people, hunting things, the family business, bullshit. They don't hunt to save people, it was never to save people. It was revenge, pure and angry revenge that quickly became a need, almost an addiction. No one does this job for this many years if they don't enjoy it. 

The thrill of killing, the rush of being in the limbo between life and death. A dependence. 

Sam always found an affinity with the dark and everything that was disturbing, it makes sense, really. Growing up like that, with a gun and a knife in each hand ever since he started to walk. Growing up in motels with the stench of blood and dirt lingering on their clothes. Witnessing things that no one should see, not even an adult, does that to a kid. 

He doesn't regret it, hunting is what they do, they might play a sick and twisted game with their minds, trying to convince themselves that they do what they do to protect others, to protect people from the truth of what really is out there but at the end of the day, when they lay in bed, in the darkest of nights, they can't hide their true intentions, not from themselves, not from anyone. They do it because they enjoy it, because it brings them happiness and peace. 

They wouldn't change it for the world.


End file.
